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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888520">"Ghouls are people, too!" or: "How to become a traitor in five easy steps."</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillwhisper/pseuds/Chillwhisper'>Chillwhisper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Cannibalism, Character Death, Empire of the Ghouls, F/F, Gen, Gore, I wrote this for me but you can read it too if you want, Magic, Necromancy, Undead, Vampires, War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:49:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillwhisper/pseuds/Chillwhisper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Varvara did not know what she expected when she returned home to see her parents, but undeath wasn't it. A story of a somewhat innocent wizard in her 20s discovering how easy it is to get desensitized to gruesome acts and how difficult it can be to escape when your old world does not accept you anymore.</p>
<p>Background story for one (1) DnD wizard in an Empire of the Ghouls DnD campaign. </p>
<p>Smut: Unlikely<br/>Fluff: Probably<br/>Gratuitous amounts of edge: Definitely</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Ghoul Fever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: This was intended to be read by exactly one (1) person, a very good friend of mine with whom I play the Empire of the Ghouls campaign every second Wednesday, but someone else asked to read it as well and so here it is, my first story on Ao3. </p>
<p>The setting is dark fantasy world known as Midgard, a place filled with war and dark magic. Your average peasant can be happy if they aren't eaten or used for dark rituals when they die, and as such the Empire campaign is pretty dark and has some gruesome themes. This specifically is about the undead rising to do undead things, and the campaign is naturally about ending this threat. It has vampires too! The undead in this case are ghouls, who can be intelligent and powerful people, but all crave humanoid flesh so expect some people to be devoured, possibly alive.</p>
<p>This story is set in the 10 years prior to the actual adventure, I'm having a bit of fun with my character finding out what the underworld is like and how it will change her. I don't plan to write down the adventure itself, there's a nice official book with that info.</p>
<p>A very quick glossary:<br/>IY: Imperial Year, Ghoul empire time</p>
<p>That's it, that's the glossary, I hope you can edit notes if I need more later...</p>
<p>Have fun, tell me what I can do better if you want, and I don't blame you if you stop after the second sentence because boy am I an inexperienced writer.</p>
<p>Btw if you want to know where we are, have a Midgard map, locations might become relevant<br/>https://midgardmap.koboldpress.com/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>91 IY, in a small town near Varshava</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a bitter year for the living of Morgau, an impressive feat in the war-torn world of Midgard. With the vampire-controlled Duchy of Morgau firmly established - with the help of their darakhul allies - and all main cities conquered, the ghouls’ legions were free to raid any place they wanted to bolster their ranks – and to gather slaves and food. Not a soul was safe from the attacks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Varvara Kulesk had just arrived from Zobeck in her hometown, after her mother’s letters had stopped and it was clear that nothing would stop the ghouls from ransacking every town and village in Morgau. The young mage had dropped her studies, hoping that she would find her parents alive and well – or to have a chance to save them.</p>
<p>Upon reaching the town in the middle of the night however, it was clear that the nightmare had reached her home. The night was lit by fires burning all over town, started to give the living a chance to see their enemies and fight - or run. Echoing screams greeted her as she drew near in a desperate run. She turned west, trying to avoid the thick of the (rather one-sided) battle, but the moment she rounded a corner that had looked safe, she ran into a pair of ghouls who immediately noticed her. One yelled something in their foul language, making his companion laugh as they charged at her. The young mage could do little but throw firebolts in an attempt to keep them off, annoying them but not causing serious damage. Still, somehow, she managed to keep enough distance to rush past them, though she did only narrowly escape arrows from an archer whose attention had been drawn by the fire. Forcing herself to look ahead and ignore them behind her, Varvara ran towards her family’s house, praying to any gods that would listen that her parents had somehow escaped the assault.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The house was dark and silent, the door a gaping hole. Certain that her parents must still be there, waiting for their daughter, Varvara ignored her instinct to turn and flee and entered instead, calling out for them, but receiving no answer. In the dark, she stumbled over an object on the floor. It was a large candlestick, knocked from the table or dropped by someone. She lit it, and in the light of its tiny flame saw that the stick itself was covered in dark stains, as was the floor. Her eyes wandered and her gaze fell upon another object. Lifting the candle to see more, it turned out to be a body.</p>
<p>It was her father, stretched out on his back with his stomach ripped open, holding a small woodcutting axe in one and a pale object in the other. Inching closer, Varvara realized that the object was a hacked off hand with a small golden ring catching the flickering candlelight. The floor was soaked in blood, a wide trail leading to the door. Varvara dropped the candle and stumbled backwards, too stunned to hear her own anguished cries.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mother-</em>
</p>
<p>Before she had any time to even try calming herself, someone grabbed her arm and dragged her outside, their grip painful steel. The stench of rot made her gag, and in the dim light of the fires and the moon she saw that her captor was one of the ghouls she had passed earlier, wearing black armour and a cruel grin.</p>
<p>Again, he uttered words she could not understand, but the mocking, threatening tone required no words. He dragged her along, laughing to himself, no doubt imagining whatever torture awaited her before she became his next meal.</p>
<p>They reached the town centre, where the battle was over – corpses littered the ground, being collected by lesser ghouls on carts, no doubt to be delivered somewhere for food. The survivors, of which there was a large number – unsurprisingly, considering the value of fresh meat – where gathered in two groups, a smaller one made up mainly of the town guard and strong men and women, and a larger one containing the rest, the future fleshlings and slaves.</p>
<p>Varvara was delivered to the smaller group, where her captor thrust her in front of another ghoul with more imposing armour, most likely the commander of the raiding party. A nod of approval had her bound and pushed into the group.</p>
<p>The remaining living were gathered up and just before dawn, the ghouls herded them off into the direction of Varshava.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The ghouls marched them for hours, and as the sun reached its zenith, they reached the outskirts of Varshava and the once human military compound that the ghouls used as their local base of operations. The townspeople captured for food and labour were taken away, while Varvara’s group was brought to the barracks, which housed a large basement with small cells to hold prisoners. Each of the prisoners had their own barren cell containing nothing but a drain. Varvara was assigned one near the back of the basement and collapsed in a corner, exhausted.</p>
<p>The events of the night had not quite caught up with her yet, feeling more like a horrible nightmare than reality. She did not have time to fully realize what had happened, either, because soon after everyone was locked up, another group of darakhul entered the basement. They stopped at each cell, two examining the prisoner while a scribe took notes to document their harvest.</p>
<p>There seemed to be a bit of discussion when they reached Varvara’s cell, with one gesturing to her small, thin body and the other insisting on something. She supposed only one of them knew that she was a wizard, but he convinced his companion, and she was documented as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some time passed after they left, during which the prisoners were given food and water. Not quite enough to satisfy their hunger or thirst, but at least it meant that they were supposed to remain somewhat healthy. Through the bars, discussions began on what the ghouls planned. No one really wanted to believe the obvious – that they were meant to join their ranks. Some went so far as to assume that they were being held for ransom, though who would pay for the inhabitants of a backwater farming town remained a mystery.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was not long, however, until it became clear even to the most hopeful that they would indeed spend the rest of their lives among the living dead. As darkness fell, the ghouls returned, this time led by one who looked to be a high-ranking commander. She was joined by a group of guards as well as the scribe from earlier.</p>
<p>“Prisoners”, she addressed them, her voice cold and sharp, “you have been chosen to receive the blessing of unlife. Your weak, fragile bodies will be elevated and become worthy of the empire. Some of you may wish to escape your fate, and you do have a choice: you will serve the emperor or starve in your cells, wasting away in agony until your hunger consumes you. Choose wisely!”</p>
<p>The commander chuckled with amusement as some of the prisoners cried out that they would rather die, knowing full well that once they crossed the curtain, few would be able to withstand the hunger.</p>
<p>Without further ado, and certainly without asking for anyone’s opinion, she then made the rounds with her guards. One cell at a time, the prisoners were restrained and their wrists presented to the commander, who sank her teeth into their flesh to infect them with darakhul fever. Most of them struggled violently, but exhausted and hungry, no one was strong enough to free themselves.</p>
<p>As they made their way down the cell block, it was clear that the commander struggled to keep her own appetite in check, but to her credit no limb was devoured.</p>
<p>When they reached Varvara, she was one of those too resigned to her fate to struggle, and willingly presented her wrist to the darakhul to avoid a painful struggle she could not win. This gained her an approving nod from one of the guards.</p>
<p>The bite was painful and deep. It took all her strength not to scream, but when the group moved on, she pressed her wrist against her chest, whimpering as her eyes filled with tears. She managed not to start crying and eventually recovered enough to bind the wound with a scrap torn from the hem of her robe. She knew well enough that the filthy fabric would do nothing to improve the wound, but at least she hoped that she would not bleed to death.</p>
<p>And with that, the waiting began.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next hours felt like an eternity as the infection spread from the wound through her body. In the beginning, it felt like a simple fever, leaving her shaking and sweating, but soon it was joined by growing aches all over her body. At this point, the basement was filled with groans and cries of pain. Varvara was curled up in a corner, overwhelmed by nausea and praying that her body would give out soon. Every wound on her body, inflicted during the journey to the compound, had begun to fester, accelerated by the unholy disease. Eventually, she began fading in and out of consciousness – by this time, a whole day had passed - until there was only blackness and then… Nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Until there was not, and her consciousness returned. At first, she floated in darkness – disembodied, unfeeling, and blind, aware of her existence but not quite able to grasp what was happening. Silence was slowly replaced by sounds she did not understand until, suddenly, a blow to her body drew her back towards reality. The sounds she heard were still unintelligible to her, but she recognized them as speech. Another blow – a kick - to her back animated her to open her eyes and gaze at the cell wall. Her memory returned, and she realized what had happened to her. She groaned, alerting the guards that she had survived the ordeal.</p>
<p>They turned her over and prodded and poked until they were satisfied that she was indeed awake and conscious before they removed her from the cell. Varvara stumbled along as they took her to a cart waiting outside, which held half a dozen people, shackled and dazed as she was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She had apparently been the last survivor to be lead from the dungeon, as the moment she was shoved on the cart and shackled to it by her hands like the others, the cart began moving. Soon, night fell and once again they travelled in darkness – but Varvara found the lack of light quite welcome, seeing with surprising ease. As the journey went on, she slowly came to terms with what had happened to her.</p>
<p>The first thing she truly noticed was the lack of body heat. Her flesh had cooled to ambient temperature, but she felt neither hot nor cold. Then she tried holding her breath and found that she could do so indefinitely – only habit kept her chest moving. She wondered, briefly, when this would fade.</p>
<p>And then the hunger came. It was quiet, at first, but as the hours passed it started gnawing at her. Eventually, she began fantasizing about food, but mental images of human food were not as enticing as they should have been. Thoughts of raw meat started invading her mind until, with horror, she knew that this was what she truly craved now. Now it hit her why the prisoners were shackled out of reach from each other, as she felt a rising urge to sink her teeth into the people around her. Their hungry eyes made it obvious that they felt the same, and soon some began struggling against their chains to try and reach their neighbours.</p>
<p>In this moment, watching the others, she realized that something about them was… off. Did she have the same… <em>feral</em> look to her? The longer she observed, the more obvious it became that the once proud guards and townspeople had lost much, if not all, of their humanity, acting more and more like starved dogs. She felt the same hunger but found it easy enough to restrain herself. The thought of devouring one of them disgusted her, but none of them seemed to have such qualms as they tried to reach each other. Eventually, the one closest to her started chewing on his own leg. She yelled at him to stop, but he did not even look up as he stripped the flesh from his bones. Finished, he looked up at her, grinning madly. Dismayed, Varvara turned away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ride went on for a few more hours until they reached a cave that proved to be a heavily guarded tunnel entrance leading to gods knew where – though it was easy enough to guess that somewhere at the end lay the caverns that were home to the ghouls. <em>My home, now…</em> Varvara thought, shivering. The cart was handed over to the local guards to be escorted further.</p>
<p>When one of them came close enough, she tried to talk to him.</p>
<p>“Hey, what are you going to do with us?” she asked the guard who looked like he had once been some sort of elf.</p>
<p>“Oh, a lucky one!” he replied with a grim smile but did not answer her question. She tried again but could not get him to say anything else. <em>Lucky? This is what you call <strong>lucky</strong>?</em> She sat back, glaring fruitlessly at the back of his helmet. In the meantime, her “companions” had calmed down somewhat, making it easier to ignore them while she wondered what exactly made her especially “lucky”.</p>
<p>Around them, the tunnel began to change. At the start, it had looked like a natural formation, but the further they got, the more signs of artifice appeared. The ground was paved, the walls smoothed and occasionally, they passed openings to other tunnels with signs guiding the way. She could not read them – yet – but their purpose was clear enough. Eventually, the main tunnel they were taking widened, and they started to see people travelling in the other direction. Most of them were ghouls as well, but there were several kobolds and other living creatures Varvara could not quite identify among them. They all kept a wary eye on the undead, ready to fight or run, in case anyone looked particularly hungry. Varvara did not find them very appetizing, but at this moment any meat would have been welcome. Her thoughts kept returning to a single question: <em>“When will they feed us?”</em>, making her quite uncomfortable in her own mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soon, the tunnel opened up again, this time to a massive cavern. Even in her current situation, Varvara could not help but be awed by the view – The ceiling was so far up it faded into darkness, while the walls around the cavern floor were illuminated by bioluminescent lichen and mushrooms. The road reached a cliff and turned into a short bridge, and at the bottom of the valley, a narrow river flowed calmly. At its banks, some of the mushrooms had grown so tall one could mistake them for trees. Never had Varvara heard of anything like this – and then her eyes fell on the city itself. Its size was not particularly impressive compared to Zobeck, but the tiered architecture itself was truly a sight to behold – the entire city was built from a white rock that almost looked like the bones of a gigantic animal. In the centre, a massive black tower atop a hill rose above the rest of the city.  </p>
<p>The cavern was surprisingly bright, considering that the ghouls could see well in darkness. The city streets were bathed in yellow-green light and the white stone itself seemed to emit a blueish glow. The light made the sight all the more eerie and otherworldly.</p>
<p>In short, she found the strange cavern immensely beautiful. <em>Not a bad place to spend this wretched existence in…</em> She thought glumly. Though whether the White City would be a welcoming home remained to be seen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For now, they reached the first massive double gate, heavily guarded not only by various types of ghouls, but large and thoroughly alien insectoid creatures as well. The cart and its guards were searched briefly, unlike other visitors who apparently went through a very in-depth and slow inspection. It made sense – after all, the cart belonged to one of the legions and brought freshly turned ghouls. What sort of contraband were they supposed to bring with them?</p>
<p>During the proceedings, Varvara watched the surrounding people. There were obvious merchants, soldiers, and people who looked like what passed for civilians among the darakhul, but many of them looked to be far more degenerate ghouls, squabbling over scraps of food and begging from anyone who could possibly carry flesh with them. Some tried to sneak past the guards but were easily and violently stopped. Varvara could not decide between pity and disgust. No doubt they had not asked for this miserable life, but they were so… <em>primitive.</em></p>
<p>Once the security check was over, they were let through the gates into an area filled with market stands, most occupied by various creatures who to Varvara’s surprise were all very much alive. They clearly did not fear being eaten, and some of them even approached the caravan to try and sell their wares to the guards, who ignored them.</p>
<p>This area was quite small, however, and soon they stopped before the second gate. The second search was even sloppier.</p>
<p>Curiously, some of the ghoul visitors waiting here were soaking wet. It took Varvara a while to find out why, until she saw one of the dripping people exiting a tunnel from which the sound of rushing water could faintly be heard over the sound of the market. Why someone would enter the city by swimming only to end up in front of this gate anyway was beyond her, but surely, they had a good reason that would eventually reveal itself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Past the second gate, the commercial structures continued but were clearly tightly organized. Tiny stalls were replaced by shops built from the same white stone as everything else seemed to be, and here some of the merchants were ghouls as well as living outsiders. The caravan entered a large square bustling with activity, where they were greeted by a well-dressed noble, who practically radiated wealth. Here, everyone but Varvara was unloaded from the cart. Gold passed hands, but before she could see what happened to her fellow travellers, the cart took off again. Confused, Varvara tried again to speak to one of the guards for some information on what was going to happen to <em>her </em>now, but to no avail.</p>
<p>On the way further into the city, they passed various quarters, all easily told apart by the people milling about and the architecture around them. Some were obviously inhabited either by rich or noble darakhul, some seemed to serve some sort of religious purpose, and others were crowded by lesser ghouls barely above those she had seen begging at the gates.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After another two hours, Varvara’s journey was finally over as well. They had reached an area clearly belonging to the military forces, with soldiers posted at every corner. Through another gate they went until they reached… Another prison. One more time Varvara was ushered into a cell block and chained to the wall with no idea what was going on. Everyone around her spoke in the same foreign language (well, she was sure this was darakhul, for obvious reasons, but apparently becoming one did not magically teach one the language).</p>
<p>This time, the wait was shorter, and she was soon greeted by an officer who was hopefully ready to give her some answers. He did not bother introducing himself and went straight to a series of short questions.</p>
<p>“Name?”</p>
<p>“What- my name is none of your business! Why am I here? What are you doing to do to me?” she replied. The officer glared.</p>
<p>“<strong>Name</strong>?”</p>
<p>“I- Ugh. Fine. Kulesk. Varvara Kulesk. Now can I <em>please</em> have some answers?”</p>
<p>“Later. You are a wizard, correct?” He was apparently confirming information from a list.</p>
<p>“Well, yes.”</p>
<p>“And your caravan came from Varshava?”</p>
<p>“Yes.” He nodded and continued to ask basic questions which she answered dutifully until he looked satisfied.</p>
<p>“Good, very good. Alright, wizard, here’s your introduction: You were brought here because you got lucky – while the rest of your group died or woke up as lesser ghouls, <em>you</em> came through the curtain as a darakhul. Congratulations.” He smiled. She did not quite feel like smiling back.</p>
<p>“Now you may not yet realize that this is indeed a blessing, but soon you will find that your old life was just a pathetic shadow of what your future will be. You are now stronger, no longer weighed down by exhaustion and illness. With the right amount of ambition, you have every chance to rise among the ranks – your old status in human society is irrelevant here.</p>
<p>…That is if you swear loyalty to the emperor, of course.”</p>
<p>The pride in his voice was impressive, but there was clearly a hint of threat as well.</p>
<p>“What if I don’t?” she asked, trying to sound impassive.</p>
<p>“I am certain you feel the hunger, don’t you? Like a gaping hole in your stomach, begging to be filled. Your tongue lusts for the sweet taste of flesh, and no doubt somewhere at the back of your mind you wonder what it would feel like to tear the flesh from my bones.”</p>
<p>Noticing her disgusted expression, he laughed.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to admit it. We all have been there. Well, if you refuse to swear the oath to the empire, your hunger will be left to grow. You will remain in this cell, chained to the wall until you try to gnaw through your own limbs to free yourself and hunt. However, you will not escape. You will rot in this cell, insane with hunger, until your body gives out. You will try to devour your own flesh, first your hands, or maybe your feet, ignoring the pain. But eventually, you will starve here, and the best you can hope for will be that someone takes pity and cuts what is left up for a snack.”</p>
<p>He grinned. This time, it was <em>definitely</em> meant to be a threat. The image of the ghoul on the cart chewing on his own leg was back at the forefront of her mind. Varvara must have looked every bit as terrified as she felt, for the officer gently placed a calming hand on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“You do not have to spend a single moment suffering once you accept the offer, you know? We do take care of our own. But I will give you some time to think. Weigh your options. Watch the other captives – look around, there are others here who refuse to join us. Do you really want to go through the same agony?”</p>
<p>With this, he turned and left the cell, locking the door behind him.</p>
<p>Varvara did as he had suggested and looked around. The cells were separated by bars instead of solid stone, so she could see everyone around her. Some were apparently new like her, but the woman across from her had clearly been locked up so too long to have any shred of humanity or hope left. She was chained to the wall by her neck, one arm missing up to the shoulder, with only bone sticking out from the ruined joint. Every other part of her body that was within reach of her mouth had been chewed on as well, with most of her filthy clothing torn beyond recognition.</p>
<p>Noticing Varvara’s gaze, she looked back at the wizard, snarling. Greedy for Varvara’s fresh body, the prisoner suddenly leapt to her ruined feet and tried to rip her chain out of the wall to no avail. <em>I don’t want to be… that, </em>she thought, averting her eyes. The hunger-crazed darakhul screamed in frustration but was quickly shut up by a guard knocking her on the head with the hilt of his sword.</p>
<p>And so, Varvara waited.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next hours were spent in silent thought. As the officer had predicted, she grew ever hungrier, and forming coherent thoughts became more and more difficult as her whole body screamed for nourishment. What became clear was that Varvara did not want to die like this, chained to this wall, insane and starving. She was a monster, now, but she was still the same woman, with all her memories, her empathy and morality. Varvara considered herself a relatively good person, surely it would be possible to remain as such?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the city, time was measured in bells, rung in regular three-hour intervals. Religious practices, business, feedings, social events all followed the bell. In her prison, Varvara could hear the bells as well, but had no way to know how much time passed between them. The fourth bell finally brought back the officer, and Varvara had made the practical decision to swear whatever oath they wanted from her. Anything was better than rotting in this filthy dungeon, and surely there must be some way for her to live among the darakhul without turning to evil.</p>
<p>When the officer came, he brought three others with him, a black-robed figure whose gender was impossible to tell as well as two women, one who was dressed in plain clothes suggesting that she was of low rank, likely a servant of some kind. The other was dressed in the same armour the commander in Varshava had worn. <em>That’s a lot of people just to ask me whether I want to stay. Do they expect me to accept...?</em></p>
<p>The commander was the first to address her.</p>
<p>“Varvara Kulesk, we are here to-“</p>
<p>“I accept. I swear your oath.” Varvara interrupted her. <em>I’m too hungry for speeches.</em></p>
<p>“You-“ She sighed. “Fine, let us skip the formalities then. Are you aware that the penalty for breaking your oath is a torture based on your specific transgression and subsequent death?”</p>
<p>“I figured.” The commander grew visibly irritated.</p>
<p>“You will do well to learn some manners, wizard. Not all will be so forgiving of your behaviour.”</p>
<p>“My apologies.” Varvara looked at her impatiently. <em>Get on with it, I’m starving!</em></p>
<p>“Once you have sworn the oath, you will be assigned your place in the empire. As a wizard, you will be sent to the Fane of the Necrophagi, where, if you manage to <em>behave</em>, you may enjoy the privilege of being taught some of their magic. However even the lowest of the lords can make themselves useful, I am certain they will find something for you to do.”</p>
<p>The robed one next to her nodded.</p>
<p>“You will also receive your first taste of flesh.” Varvara straightened up, suddenly excited. “Any subsequent feedings will be up to your masters, who will assign you a mentor to guide you as you adjust to your new life and the laws of the Empire.”</p>
<p>“The oath has to be witnessed by a representative of your new order, who in this case is Katalin Wraithcaller” – she nodded to her robed companion – “one of the order’s necromancers.”</p>
<p>Varvara nodded her understanding.</p>
<p>“Since you already agreed, it’s time to take the oath. Please repeat the following after me…”</p>
<p>An obscenely long set of phrases followed, with Varvara diligently replied back and knew she would never remember a single word of.</p>
<p>“…and with this I swear my unending loyalty to the Emperor and the People”, she finally finished. And with this, the officer looked quite pleased – likely with himself – the commander nodded her approval and the necrophage showed no sign of caring either way. The servant however smiled at her, and it was only then that Varvara noticed that the woman was <em>alive</em>. <em>Interesting.</em></p>
<p>She was then informed that to show respect, she would be cleaned and dressed before being let anywhere near the flesh – it was apparently considered sacred, and as such one did not simply dig filthy fingers into whatever piece one could get their hands on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so, Varvara followed the servant girl out of the dungeon and into a small adjacent building which housed washrooms, among other necessities. Here, the younger woman introduced herself as Anita. She talked little otherwise as she helped Varvara out of her filthy travel clothes – clothes one died in did neither look or smell very appealing – and helped her thoroughly wash herself. During this process, Varvara noticed the small wounds on her legs and arms, as well as the bitemark, looking like part of the flesh was rotting.</p>
<p>This was the first chance she had to truly realize what had happened to her body, and with the realization came utter disgust.</p>
<p>“A-Anita, how bad do I smell?” she asked furtively.</p>
<p>“My lady, you smell fine.”</p>
<p>“I have rotting wounds on my body!” She held her wrist out under the servant’s nose who, impressively, did not flinch. “You can’t tell me that this smells <em>fine</em>!”</p>
<p>“I- my lady, you smell like any other darakhul. B-but if you wish, we can remove the dead flesh, I have the necessary tools right here, if that is alright?” The girl pointed at a box on a shelf, her finger trembling slightly. Appalled, Varvara realized that the young elfmarked was terrified of her. <em>But of course, she probably thinks I will eat her if she displeases me…</em></p>
<p>“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, I’m very new to… This.” She gestured at her deathly pale body. “I don’t want to eat you, if it helps”, she added with a smile. It clearly did not work too well, and she could only guess what the servant thought of her now.</p>
<p>After an awkward pause, Varvara continued. “About your offer to remove the rot, I would appreciate that, thank you.”</p>
<p>This process took quite long, was rather painful and involved quite a bit of cutting and scooping, although it seemed that Anita was well-versed in what she was doing. Varvara found that she did not bleed at all and marvelled at this until she remembered that one needed a beating heart for blood to flow. The last bit Anita had to remove was part of the skin on Varvara’s chin, revealing white bone underneath. The wizard was glad there was no mirror in sight.</p>
<p>At last, Anita dressed her into simple black robes and led her off into the courtyard, where Wraithcaller and two guards waited. These two were clad in different armour, bearing the symbol of the Necrophagi (as was pointed out to her by the necrophage), three skulls and a bone wand. Together they boarded a carriage drawn by a massive docile beetle and made their way to Varvara’s new home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. No Apprenticeship for You (yet)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one sees Varvara introduced to her new society. Bit of gore in it but I try not to go completely overboard. The whole feeding thing will become less relevant over time, I want to focus on other things, but it is kind of important.<br/>Warning: Lots of exposition. Boooooooo</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I guess I posted my first chapter and did not die of shame. Look ma, I can be confident too! Here’s the second, I suppose. I want to try and make this a long running thing, even if my audience can be counted on one hand. A three-fingered troll hand.</p><p>Also, hello, “Steven”, I’m glad you like your little story. Why YOUR story you ask? Guess who it’s dedicated to :P</p><p>If anyone else read the first chapter and is still here for the second, I love and appreciate you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took an hour to get to the tower, an <em>exceedingly </em>long hour for one who was absolutely starving. Varvara did not take in much of the city’s sights on the way to the Fane of the Necrophagi, being too distracted by vivid images of taking a bite out of the nearest guard to care about some buildings and other people. All the while, she was watched by her wizard companion, though their face was hidden in the shadows beneath their large hood. No doubt they were trying to discern whether Varvara was in control of herself. <em>Barely</em>.</p><p>At the tower, Varvara had a feeling that its occupants were up to no good – were it the skeletal guards or the massive skulls floating around the tower? <em>Tasteful décor… I wonder if the skulls are sentries of some kind.</em></p><p>Wraithcaller motioned her to follow, and together they entered through the tower’s imposing double doors. They were made of dark metal and embossed with gruesome imagery, all related to necromancy in some way. Varvara shivered – there were necromancers at the Arcane Collegium in Zobeck as well, but they were regarded with suspicion even among their fellow openminded wizards. Then again, what had happened to her was not so dissimilar, now was it? Except with less magic. <em>Or is darakhul fever a magical affliction? I know so little!</em></p><p>The doors opened into a high-ceilinged hall lined with doors that grew narrower the further up one looked, filled with more skeletal guards. There were a few <em>fleshier</em> people around, but they appeared to be busy with housekeeping. Varvara was not sure whether they were darakhul or lesser ghouls. If the first, she wondered if she was going to join them in the immediate future or if it was some form of punishment.</p><p>Her companion stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to her. They stood in a large circle surrounded by runes, making Varvara wonder if she was in for her first magical ritual, but instead they simply decided to finally speak.</p><p>“Welcome to the Fane of the Necrophagi, Varvara Kulesk,” they said with a rasping voice. “This tower is home to knowledge beyond your imagination, but to learn anything of import, you will have to prove your loyalty to us. Do not expect to be handed everything on a silver platter – in this place, your ambitions must be tempered with humility, or you will quickly realize that your masters have neither the time nor patience for an arrogant little lord.”</p><p>“I understand”, Varvara replied politely. <em>I suppose asking for food right now would not be appropriate…?</em></p><p>“I know what you are thinking. ‘Why are they not feeding me?’” Varvara coughed awkwardly. “And the answer is simple. I believe you already have some understanding that flesh is scarce and treated with reverence; we have laws regulating the feeding, including how and when it is meant to take place. As a newcomer, you will receive your share once a week” - the young woman stared at her in shock – “along with others of your station. Do not worry – you only have to wait until the next bell.”</p><p>“May I ask how we are supposed to survive for a full week without food?”, Varvara blurted out.</p><p>“Simple – all ghouls can go without feeding for weeks. You do not <em>need</em> to consume humanoid flesh at all, in fact – any fresh meat will sustain you. It will never fully satiate the hunger, and you will find little pleasure in devouring animals, but it is absolutely possible to last a week. If you have issues keeping your appetite in check, I recommend visiting the Shrine of Vardesain, the god of hunger – his priests will be able to help you.” They sounded quite positive, although Varvara wondered how a bit of prayer could ever fill the void in her stomach. <em>Weeks</em>… <em>That’s insane!</em></p><p>“A bit of advice, while we are on the topic – do yourself a favour and consume only what you are given. Laying so much as a hand on someone else’s fleshlings reserves is a crime that is punished harshly.”</p><p>“Fleshlings…?”</p><p>“Humanoids kept alive for food”, Wraithcaller replied casually. Varvara suddenly understood the reality of her hunger. Someone sentient would have to die to feed her. A dissatisfying diet of animal meat suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. <em>How can I ever eat a person? I… This must be what happened to mother.</em> She felt sick.</p><p>“Trust me, you will get used to it. The living are inferior creatures – it is an honour for them to serve us.” <em>It was not an honour for mother to be eaten by one of you- I mean… us…</em></p><p>“Do they… uhm... do they want to be eaten? Are they volunteers?”</p><p>This earned her a rasping laugh.</p><p>“No. Fleshlings do not ask for this fate. Although some living will willingly sacrifice themselves during cult rituals, but you will have little contact with these. At most you will find people begging to be infected with darakhul fever.”</p><p>“Why would they want this?” she asked before it occurred to her that this was probably an exceptionally rude question.</p><p>“Strength, power, immortality – why would they not?”</p><p>“Well, <em>I</em> didn’t ask for it, either; most people don’t want to be like you!”</p><p>Luckily, her companion was experienced with newcomers and had had this conversation countless times before, or Varvara would have gotten her first taste of punishment right then.</p><p>“Like us, you mean“ - their voice had a sly undertone – “and you will understand soon enough. It takes time to adapt. Now let me show you around a bit before you say something you cannot take back.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, the pair made their way around the bottom floors of the tower. The runic circle in the central hall was indeed used for rituals, but rarely was this much space required.  There were enough other chambers to use to one’s heart’s content. Other rooms were used for teaching and experiments, or simple target practice, since the Necrophagi would join the armies in battle when needed. Even a necromancer needed to throw a well-aimed fireball here and there. The second floor was especially interesting, as it held nothing but a massive library spanning the entire circumference of the tower. As a newcomer who did not even have an apprenticeship, Varvara’s access to this was extremely limited, but her wizardly side made her <em>exceptionally</em> curious. She wondered what one would have to do to access the depths of knowledge within; No doubt she would have to reconsider her values if she wanted to get far here.</p><p>The third floor, the last they explored before the ringing of the bell, contained practical rooms such as the mess hall for all the lower-level members. Said mess hall was also the end of their little journey.</p><p> </p><p>When the bell rang, Katalin ushered Varvara into the hall, which was filled with darakhul all waiting in orderly lines to receive their portion of the flesh. None of them looked ready to jump anyone, so at the very least, whatever they did to keep their hunger under control worked. Due to this being Varvara’s first taste, she was not made to wait at the back of the line as her status dictated. Instead, she was directed to stand at the front of the hall, watched by everyone, where an unconscious, naked elfmarked man was chained to an altar. Varvara stood before the altar, swallowing hard as she looked down at the soon-to-be meal. He was young but thin, likely around her own age, and looked like he had received a bit of a beating. No doubt he had struggled, but at least he was not awake to see what was happening…</p><p>On the other side of the altar stood a man who looked like some sort of priest, holding a beautifully decorated ritual dagger, ready to carve. He spoke to her once again about the importance of the laws and feeding rituals – <em>yada yada yada</em> – before announcing that the feeding would start. Varvara had to watch in horror as the blade sank into the man’s thigh to cut the first piece which would be served to her (a prized cut she would not receive again any time soon). Screaming, the man woke. The priest reverently handed her the slice, and she was signalled to bow and thank him as she took it.</p><p>All eyes were on her, watching, and Varvara felt certain that this was her first test. She hesitated a bit too long, torn between images of her mother being devoured and sheer hunger. Behind her, a few people yelled at her to start eating. As the seconds passed, more joined into the cruel chorus until she closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the flesh. She did not notice the cheering behind her, too absorbed with the taste. The moment it touched her tongue, she wanted more, and in the blink of an eye found herself dragged off the man’s body before she could tear flesh that was not meant for her directly off his bones. Any vile imagery was gone from her mind. She was completely consumed by ravenous appetite. All the while the elfmarked stared at her, disgusted and horrified, but Varvara did not care.</p><p>As she was brought out of the hall so the rest of the mages could have their meal in peace, his screams of agony followed. It would take her a while to forget them.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The time that followed was spent in a bit of a haze. Varvara both felt a rush of energy flood her body, the flesh giving her a never before known sense of vitality and strength. She practiced the basic spells she had learned in Zobeck before cutting her education short and found that especially her beloved fire magic was now much stronger. But at the back of her mind, she was fully aware of the suffering that had given her this power. And she knew well enough that this would not last, that she would need more. <em>Do I really have the right?</em> Was a common question she kept coming back to. <em>No, I do not. But… does it really matter? There is no turning back to human society now. They will shun and fear me, greet me with nothing but hate, likely try to kill me on the spot. Do I really </em>have<em> to care about their well-being?</em></p><p>Of course, there was nobody to ask, really. She had yet to have a proper talk with anyone, and questions about guilt and morality seemed somewhat out of place for one’s very first conversation with strangers. It was clear that Katalin was supposed to be her mentor, but Varvara was quite sure that they would simply tell her to shut up and devour her inferiors. She wondered if everyone shared this line of thought. Surely different opinions were a thing…?</p><p>Eventually she remembered that Katalin had told her to speak to the priests of Vardesain if she wished to discuss the hunger. The Fane was not far from the Shrine, and she had been given permission to spend the next two bells at her leisure before she would be evaluated and assigned tasks to earn her place in ghoul society.</p><p> </p><p>Unsure what to do with herself in the Fane and uncomfortable with introducing herself to the other low-ranking darakhul there, Varvara decided to visit the Shrine. A guard pointed her in the correct direction, and she went off on the short walk.</p><p>Since the Fane and the Temples were located on a tall hill in the centre of Darakhan (which she had been informed was the White City’s official name), this walk also gave her a chance to take in the view of the city again. It was just as beautiful as her first impression, though she did wonder where she was meant to stay. Sleep was not an issue of course, but she still desired to have a home. In fact, most of her desires had remained exactly the same – she still wanted to study the arcane arts, become a powerful wizard and travel the world. And maybe one day settle down with a partner at her side – <em>if anyone wants me now. I mean, maybe another darakhul? But… </em>She shivered. <em>How can I be attracted to someone whose body isn’t even alive anymore? Do they even feel attraction? Can I love someone now? I miss my parents. That’s an emotion based on love. Maybe-</em></p><p>Varvara was abruptly awakened from her thoughtful reverie by bumping into someone quite a bit taller to her. Looking up, Varvara’s gaze fell upon a face so beautiful it seemed unreal. Pale skin, dark hair and red eyes. A woman who was clearly not a darakhul but looked no less undead than Varvara.</p><p>“M-my apologies, my lady, I was lost in thought…” she mumbled and received a stony glare in return.</p><p>“Pay attention to your surroundings, ghoul.” <em>Ouch</em>.</p><p>With that, the woman walked past her without a second glance. Varvara watched her leave and made a mental note to ask someone what she was and if she could be… <em>that</em>, too. She unconsciously touched the coin-sized spot of naked bone on her jaw. <em>I would certainly appreciate a bit of a visual change right now.</em></p><p>Doing exactly as she had been told and paying attention to where she was going, Varvara did not bump into anyone else until she reached the Shrine. It was made of the same white stone as everything else, but accented with red, making her think of blood and bone. <em>Wonderful</em>. <em>I am going to get hungry again. </em>She entered through a massive gate flanked by red columns made to resemble a ghoul holding up the roof. They were three times the size of a grown man – or four times the size of a tiny Varvara.</p><p> </p><p>Inside the entrance hall, Varvara found herself among few others. There were a few darakhul worshippers as well as a priest here and there. Their robes looked like the ones the priest at the feeding had worn. <em>Makes sense that he would be a priest of Vardesain. I wonder if they always have one of them at the feedings or if this was in my, uhm, ‘honour’.</em></p><p>Another set of doors led into the main hall, which was lined with mostly empty pews all centered on a large circular pit in the floor. There was no altar to be seen. She could make out a bald man keeping watch over the pit. His robes looked more ornate than those of the other priests. Varvara wondered what his role was. It also occurred to her that she possibly should have brought some offering. <em>Most likely.</em></p><p>Around the pews, more of the ghoul-pillars supported the ceiling, reflected in the pitch-black marble that lined the floor.</p><p> </p><p>As she stood looking, one of the priests took notice and approached her.</p><p>“May I help you?” She asked rather kindly.</p><p>“Uhm.” Varvara awkwardly ran her fingers through her hair, absently noting that quite a few strands came off in the process. “I… I’m new.”</p><p>“I can see as much. You look quite… <em>fresh</em>. What is your name, newcomer?”</p><p>“Thank you, I suppose? My name is Varvara Kulesk.”</p><p>“Ah, you have not even received your new name yet. I am sure the Necrophagi have informed you of the naming customs?”</p><p>“The…? No. Do I need a new name?”</p><p>The priest smiled. Her face was unmarred by scars, but grey and taut. It was impossible to tell her age, but she did give off an air of a kind but strict aunt.</p><p>“Yes, if you want to be accepted into society, you will need one. If you enter the service of a higher ranking noble, you may receive their surname, but you also have the option to visit the naming shrine and partake in the ritual if you find yourself without a master for a prolonged time. I am certain your mentor will guide you in these matters.</p><p>Now it is obvious why you have been told to come here. No doubt you have questions about the hunger, and how to stave it off? Well, let me give you an introduction to the teachings of Vardesain…”</p><p>The teachings were numerous, and there were different paths to take that all had different customs. Varvara had never been particularly religious, and it was a lot to take in. <em>I should give this a chance, though. Maybe it helps?</em> One path was that of the Sated, which, contrary to the name, was about not giving in to the hunger at all. Apparently, its leaders never fed on humanoids. However, <em>apparently</em> it was also nearly impossible to follow without incredible willpower and half an eternity spent in prayer and meditation.</p><p>A whole bell passed while the woman talked, and talked, and talked, and once she was finished, she handed Varvara a small red book that contained even more detail.</p><p>“Listen, Varvara, one more thing”, she said as Varvara was about to excuse herself, “Most new darakhul do not know what to do with their new existence. You will likely find it difficult and challenging to accept the darker side of your new reality. Know that the Shrine is open to anyone, and if you require counsel, feel free to visit.</p><p>My name, by the way, is Nevena Vardeson, feel free to ask for me specifically if you wish to chat.”</p><p>“Thank you, Nevena.” Varvara found herself smiling back. <em>Monsters, huh?</em></p><p>It was only when the priest had left to return to her duties that Varvara realized that she had learned absolutely nothing to help her with her moral dilemma.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After this little excurse, she decided to return to the Fane, she went looking for her mentor again. Her free time was not quite over yet, but Varvara did not really have anywhere to go. What she did have were questions.</p><p>It took some asking the surprisingly helpful and talkative skeletal guards until she found them in the library. Or rather, Varvara was ordered to wait at the entrance while a librarian went and fetched Katalin.</p><p>“Thank you for seeing me early”, Varvara greeted them.</p><p>“Do not get used to it, I do have other duties. Did you make good use of the time, at least?”</p><p>“I went out to the Shrine of Vardesain to talk to the priests, they told me a lot about the three paths…” Varvara shrugged. “It was interesting but didn’t really answer any questions.”</p><p>“That is typical of the priests. You will have to return more than once if you wish to hear anything of substance.”</p><p>The two walked to a surprisingly comfy lounging area littered with armchairs and tables for small groups to sit around. A large fireplace was lit in the centre, the warmth welcome even to those who could not feel cold anymore.</p><p>“Apropos questions…” Varvara said as they sat down at one of the tables.</p><p>“Ask.”</p><p>“How long is a bell, actually?”</p><p>“Really, that is the most burning question on your mind?” Katalin scoffed. “About three surface hours. There are 8 bells in a day. You typically have two of these for yourself, though for now I strongly suggest spending these educating yourself on our culture and history. You will find the librarians helpful with this. As for the rest, you will receive a schedule when you have your duties assigned.</p><p>Anything else?”</p><p>“The priest mentioned the Naming Shrine…”</p><p>“Ah yes. If you fail to find employment with anyone outside the Fane, you will have to visit the Shrine and partake in a ritual to assign you a name of your choice. You can also choose to do this sooner but know that new names have it difficult in the Empire.”</p><p>“Why?” <em>Choosing my own name sounds so much better!</em></p><p>“Is it not obvious?” They sighed. “A new name does not have any reputation.”</p><p>“So… I don’t have the luxury of having a good reputation by default but have to make my own.”</p><p>“Exactly. I suggest thinking about it before making rash decisions. You will potentially have to live with this name for decades upon decades if you do not get yourself killed.”</p><p>“Wait… Does that mean ghouls cannot die of old age?”</p><p>“Precisely. Nobody knows how many years we can live, since every single ghoul finds a violent end, be it by the hand of others or their own.”</p><p>“Huh.” <em>I guess that makes us immortal. In a way.</em></p><p>Not comfortable thinking about the implications of possible endless life or the unpleasant alternative, Varvara switched topics.</p><p>“Anything else before we have a look at how you can serve the Empire?”</p><p>“Oh. Well.” Living Varvara would have blushed now. Undead Varvara’s blood was too sluggish. “I met this woman who… Well, she didn’t look like... <em>us.</em> She was... beautiful even in death. Is there any way to… Attain that?”</p><p>Katalin laughed.</p><p>“<em>Vanity</em> is the last thing you should hold on to, woman. Your body will not get better. That woman was a <em>vampire</em>, you little fool. And no, they cannot turn you into one of them.”</p><p>“Oh yes, I remember, they are your allies…”</p><p>“<em>Our</em> allies, Varvara.”</p><p> Varvara looked at the fireplace, her thoughts starting to wander again. <em>Will I… </em>rot?</p><p> </p><p>Afterwards, Katalin talked her through the evaluation process. Varvara felt like a bumbling idiot throughout the questioning, with practically no useful skills at all, but eventually they decided that she would be best suited as a scribe. She would be spending four bells of the day doing her work. One bell would be spent studying magic. Katalin would pick up with her where she had left off in Zobeck – Katalin’s last student had mysteriously vanished, so she had a bit of free time on her hands. However, that was for the next day, and so Varvara’s first day in the Empire ended in the library with a stack of books on darakhul history to be read until she was called to her new duties.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. What do you want to call your character?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Varvara goes on a hike to the Naming Shrine, makes a friend and uses up her one spellslot.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some people-eating in it again, but it's very non-graphic. I also had to rewrite the whole thing once because I am DMing the EotG campaign on Roll20 now (forever screaming internally, this is my first time AAHHH) and with the game module came a map of the Ghoul Empire that doesn't seem to be in the source book. unless it's in the middle of the spoilerzone that I am intentionally not reading. It made 90% of the chapter a bit nonsensical.</p><p>Anyway, Chapter one also needs an edit now. Whee.</p><p>Cheers!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the months passed, Varvara slowly got used to her new life. She had practically accepted the view that living humanoids were essentially cattle and cared no more about sentient creatures being killed for food than the slaughter of chickens or pigs. She did not bother to reflect on this – it was the opinion practically everyone she now knew held, and as such it <em>could</em> not be so bad.</p><p>
  <em>Technically, the only difference between me eating a human and the human eating a cow is that the cow cannot complain about it.</em>
</p><p>Outside of finding excuses for her new dietary preferences, her days were spent copying scrolls sent from every corner of Morgau and the Blood Kingdoms, practicing basic spells with Katalin or simply reading anything she could access in the library. She quickly picked up the darakhul language as well, rarely switching to the common tongue anymore.</p><p>What she did not do was spend any kind of effort on finding a higher ranking darakhul whose service she could enter. This was frowned upon, but she was nowhere near the first to take her time. Still, she was expected to at least leave her old name behind. Generally, once one passed through the curtain, one’s name was a relic of a life that ceased to exist.</p><p> </p><p>To finish the process of integrating herself into her new society, Varvara decided to leave her full name behind. She had lost any sense of connection to her old life – anyone who had known “Varvara Kulesk” was either dead or lost. And so, after weeks of being berated by anyone she introduced herself to, she asked Katalin to bring her to the Naming Shrine.</p><p>Her mentor, however, informed her that she was expected to travel alone to prove herself worthy. Not only that, but the journey would also span about 10 days there and back if she did not run into difficulties, and her mentor simply did not have the time. Due to the importance of the naming, it was easy enough to take time off her duties.</p><p> </p><p>The journey was not particularly dangerous, she was told; as long as she stuck to the safe route through settlements that were controlled by or allied with the darakhul, she would be left alone. The worst she would run into in the tunnels were the occasional beggar ghouls or a rogue skeleton here and there. Even the simplest of cantrips would be sufficient, and her recently learned fireball spell would make quick work of anything trying to attack her.</p><p>Varvara was not quite so sure, especially since her mentor tended to answer any detail questions in the most evasive, vague way possible. One did not have to be an expert in the flora and fauna of the underworld to know that practically everything was deadly in one way or another. Not even counting the actual monsters. Nevertheless, she eventually gave up on trying to get more information from her mentor.</p><p>Her supplies for the journey were limited. She had no need for a bedroll or rations. Varvara could go without food for weeks after all, and there were hints that she would be fed at the Shrine itself. And so, all she took were some general supplies like a plain dagger, her spell book, a healing potion and writing supplies, just in case.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When the time came, she was nervous, but glad to escape the rather dull routine for a while. Who would have thought that life as a hungering monstrosity would be so structured and repetitive? It was certainly better than being out dying in battle, but at this point, she was <em>bored</em>.</p><p>She left through the Merchant Gate – she had visited this area before, but it still impressed her just how many <em>living</em> creatures inhabited the southern part of Darakhan - and once again entered the sprawling tunnels connecting every corner of the Empire. One did not have to take a single step on the surface to get practically anywhere. On that note, Varvara sometimes missed the sun, but had been warned on multiple occasions that its light would make her weak and vulnerable. Even her sight would be dimmed. This meant that going to the surface on her own was almost guaranteed to end in her early demise, and no self-respecting darakhul ventured out without an exceptionally good reason.</p><p>Alone in the tunnels, Varvara was not looking forward to spending the long walk on her own, but there was no convenient carriage service linking the main points of interest in the cavern to shorten it and she could certainly not afford a mount.</p><p> </p><p>The first leg of her journey ended in a merchant town by the name of Fleshbrook. It was inhabited by ghouls and as such nobody batted an eye at the darakhul traveller. Unlike the merchant quarter of Darakhan, this place was quieter and living merchants were nowhere in sight. This made sense, as the town was bisected by the Yellow River – a reeking body of water fed by the Sulphur Sea to the east. Not only was the air difficult to breathe for any creature not adapted to it, there was also no source of pure water anywhere near the town.</p><p>That did not mean that nothing lived there – the town was most famously known for raising ‘lantern beetles’, which, as the name suggests, were used as a living light source. They were sought after by the less fortunate with terrible or non-existent darkvision but were also popular pets among undead who did not technically require light to find their way. Darakhul were after all unable to see colour in darkness. Lantern beetles were therefore common sights in places such as libraries. Varvara had seen more than one young wizard study in the company of one.</p><p>She herself had wanted one for a while but could not get her hands on one. Counting her coins, she crossed the market on the search for a vendor.</p><p>It was not difficult to find a stall surrounded by small cages holding dozens of the small horned beetles. Varvara approached the merchant and gleefully asked what one of the beetles would cost her, and how one kept them from simply flying off.</p><p>“Well,” the darakhul told her, “they’re smart enough to be trained, but that takes time. Instead, you can make use of their sense of smell. You see, as long as you carry food around“ - he pointed at baskets filled with glowing fungi – “they’ll follow you anywhere. Just make sure to always have some left so you smell enticing enough.”</p><p>He then proceeded to explain how to care for the beetles properly to ensure they would continue to glow bright enough and assured her that feeding her new pet would be easy as fungi of any kind were easy to find, and the required bioluminescent ones were practically everywhere.</p><p>For the low price of 2 silver coins, Varvara could afford one as well as some food. She gleefully picked one – it was not like the beetles were particularly varied in size or colour, but this one’s dark carapace had a lovely shade of turquoise and, in Varvara’s imagination, seemed to be more friendly than the others.</p><p> </p><p>With the beetle acquired and no need to rest, she crossed the Yellow River and left the lights of the town behind. The constant buzz was very efficient in keeping her from feeling lonely and the docile beetle seemed quite indifferent to being touched. The wizard made us of this to pet it; much like a bizarre flying dog.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The next day saw her arrive in Gnawbone, another darakhul city. This one had once belonged to the drow. Their influence was still visible in the older buildings – their decorations and architecture reminiscent of spiders and their webs.</p><p>For the darakhul, Gnawbone was a religious centre devoted to Anu-Akma. As such, it was always full of pilgrims visiting the shrines and temples. Varvara was still not particularly religious – she prayed to Vardesain every once in a while; the other gods were of little interest to her. Still, the city housed the largest temple to Anu-Akma in the entire empire, so she decided to at least have a look.</p><p>The temple was located at the city centre and was impossible to miss with its tall bell tower. It was currently afternoon (around 5<sup>th</sup> bell) and as such there was a bit of a crowd of worshippers was moving in. Varvara followed them and soon found herself inside the vast central chamber. Massive statues of Anu-Akma in various situations that she did not recognize, but were surely taken from his followers’ canon, lined the walls. Every structure, every wall was decorated with bones or made out of them, making the place resemble an ossuary, rather than a temple. Even the massive chandelier bathing everything in dim, orange light, was made of bones, and held up by chains of skulls. It was, in truth, <em>a bit much</em>. Still, Varvara was duly impressed and explored the temple, weaving her way around worshippers to have a look at the details. Her new pet helpfully illuminated the scenery.</p><p>So engrossed was she in a display of engraved bones near the back of the temple that she did not even notice that she had stepped out of the visitor area. She was standing close to a door leading down to the catacombs, which swung open as two priests exited. One was and ancient-looking high priest, the other young – as in, he did not look like he had been a darakhul for a long time.</p><p>One of the effects of surviving darakhul fever was a slowly changing appearance, so that even though darakhul did not age in the traditional sense, older ones lost more and more of their defining features as time passed. This young priest still had a full head of pure white hair and blue-black skin. She had never seen a drow in her life, but she had read descriptions. He was obviously one of them.</p><p>Presently, he looked furious, arguing with the high priest in a low voice. She could not make out the words, but the discussion concluded with the young priest storming off. Curious to see if she could help, Varvara followed him outside.</p><p>He had not gone far, standing under the great arch separating the temple courtyard from the city street. She approached him with a simple:</p><p>“Hey, are you okay?”</p><p>“I- what? Why do you care? Who are you, even?” He looked genuinely surprised that someone bothered to ask, but unsurprisingly, distrust was written all over his face.</p><p>“My name is Varvara”, she did her best reassuring smile, “you look like you haven’t been part of the Empire for long. Neither have I so – maybe it’s the spirit of kinship?” She gave an awkward little laugh, but his face did not soften.</p><p>“Yes, the Ghoul Empire is one big happy family. How naïve do you think I am?”</p><p>Varvara shrugged.</p><p>“Look, I just wanted to ask if you need any help.”</p><p>“What are you, a human? I do not require your help.”</p><p>And with that, he turned towards the city and left. <em>Meh, I was just trying to be nice.</em></p><p>After this little encounter, Varvara left as well, heading south-east towards the caverns belonging to the Cult of the Withered Hand.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Varvara had no information about this Cult, only that they were apparently not dangerous towards outsiders. From her map, the caverns looked to be smaller and interconnected with various tunnels – hopefully, she would be able to avoid members completely.</p><p>The first thing that happened to her in the large, twisted cavern network was not quite as spectacular as having to escape some sort of violent cult. No, Varvara got lost about five miles in. Between gigantic stalagmites and mushrooms littering the cavern, it was like walking through a dense forest. She had to (gently) place her lantern beetle in her pack and so did not even have a proper light source – the small insect had gotten a bit overexcited by the large number of bioluminescent fungi and led her on a merry chase until she managed to get her hands on it again. The fungi themselves mainly deepened the shadows. Darkvision or not, Varvara had no idea which direction she was going in.</p><p>After an hour or two of guessing which way was east, Varvara heard voices. She did not understand them – they spoke something akin to common, but not quite. <em>I suppose that is what undercommon sounds like.</em> To her surprise, she recognized one of the voices – it was the angry priest she had met in Gnawbone. He still sounded angry, but the other voices were the same. It sounded like he had a run-in with the local cult.</p><p>She rounded a large clump of mushrooms and saw them. The drow-darakhul as expected, surrounded by a group of short, blueish-skinned people who looked somewhat like dwarves. No dwarves Varvara had ever met, though, with their glowing white eyes. They were slight as well as short, with neatly groomed beards.</p><p>As Varvara approached the group, the priest noticed her almost immediately. She thought his glare lightened up a bit but was not quite so certain. He said something to the strange dwarves, then pointed at her.</p><p>“Try to look powerful!” he called to her in darakhul, hoping that nobody in the group would understand.</p><p>Varvara, not entirely sure how to look powerful, did the best she could: She stood up straight, put on the most threatening face possible and for extra flavour summoned an orb of fire. Apparently, it was impressive enough. The blue dwarves looked frightened. When the drow next spoke to them, pointing at Varvara once more, they all nodded in unison and ran off.</p><p>Varvara dispelled her fireball and shot the priest a questioning look.</p><p>“They are easily manipulated when they believe themselves in the presence of great power”, he explained.</p><p>He then went back on his way, now unhindered, with Varvara following him.</p><p>“What <em>are </em>they?”</p><p>“Derro. Imagine dwarves, but utterly insane. To my knowledge, they are not exactly allies of the Empire, but they do not outright attack darakhul, or drow, for that matter.”</p><p>“And what do they want from <em>you</em>?”</p><p>“They decided that I should go see their queen. I do not know why; their ‘reasoning’ is impossible to understand.” He smiled arrogantly. “At least you got a chance to make yourself useful.”</p><p>Varvara simply shrugged once again. A bit of arrogance did not bother her.</p><p>“Now tell me, Varvara, was it? Why are you following me?”</p><p>“I’m not following you, I’m going to the Naming Shrine.”</p><p>His expression darkened.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He sighed. “That is where I am going as well.” Varvara cheered internally.</p><p>“Good, do you know the way through these caverns?”</p><p>“Obviously. However, if you <em>really</em> need to follow me, do so in silence.”</p><p> </p><p>He did know the way, and Varvara was content to follow him from a distance. <em>He seems to be a right knob</em>, she thought. <em>Not a big loss</em>. Once they left the glowing fungi behind, she let her beetle out again. It did not seem too bothered by its time spent in her pack and went back to buzzing around her. Every once in a while, it took a seat on her shoulder to rest. In short, it provided better and friendlier company than the priest.</p><p>They trudged on like this for a while, though at some point Varvara fell further behind and lost sight of the priest. Cursing, she ran after him until she came to a smaller tunnel leading off the main path. It was impossible to tell which way he had gone, until she heard a cry of pain from the narrow tunnel.</p><p> </p><p>As she descended into it, he cried out again. <em>Don’t you dare get yourself killed, I need you to guide me!</em> Varvara rushed to catch up.</p><p>When she had almost reached him, his cries were joined by a suspiciously skeleton-like clattering of bones and low moans she could not quite place. Rounding the last corner, she was met with the following scene in a large cavern:</p><p>Bones littered the ground, some in piles that looked to be collapsed skeletons. <em>So he can fight, at least. </em>There were animated skeletons as well, joined by two zombies. There was another undead among them, half flesh and half bone, that seemed somewhat more intelligent, and this one was bent over the drow, who was prone on the floor, prone and bloody.</p><p>With no better idea at hand, the wizard threw a fireball at the group, causing the lesser enemies to burn and expire, but clearly not doing much to the stronger undead. It did however let go of its prey and homed in on her instead. Varvara, who could really only summon the fireball once every few days and needed to rest afterwards, switched to weaker firebolts, trying to wear it down. The wizard managed to leave more and more burns on its skin but did not slow it. It did, however, open its mouth and started to speak in a foul language she did not recognize. She braced for some sort of curse, but before it finished, a mace crushed its skull from behind.</p><p>“I really did not think… That this would work.”</p><p>The priest was swaying a bit, then passed out. <em>Looks like they got him good.</em></p><p>Varvara knelt by his side to see if she could do anything. Bites and scratches, as well as cuts from the skeletons’ rusty swords, covered him, but nothing seemed deadly as far as she could tell. She shook him gently to no avail, then slapped his cheek, which woke him up.</p><p>Pleased, Varvara took the one healing potion she had been able to afford from her pack and handed it to him.</p><p>“You look like you need this.”</p><p>“Thank you, but I cannot-“</p><p>“Drink it or I’ll make you, idiot.”</p><p>He obediently downed the vial without arguing, looking much better almost immediately – well, better was a bit of a stretch for most ghouls, but most of the wounds closed and he seemed stronger.</p><p>“Good work on the rabble.”</p><p>“Yeah, but don’t expect me to do that again anytime soon” she replied while helping him to his feet.</p><p>“Not a very useful wizard, are you?”</p><p>“Stop being rude. I saved your hide.” She frowned. “Now that I saved your life, how about you tell me your name?</p><p>“Fine. My name is Chra’fre.”</p><p> </p><p>Letting him take the lead again, Varvara had no idea anymore where they were on the map. He was taking unmarked shortcuts. When she asked how he knew the way so well, he did not tell her. Instead, he let her know a tiny bit about his background. He had unwillingly joined the empire only a few weeks ago, under similar circumstances as hers. Drow were, apparently, sought after both as food and soldiers among the darakhul. With the race on the brink of extinction, Varvara had not seen let alone tasted drow before. <em>I really wonder what the, uh, rare races taste like…</em></p><p>He was by no means better company than before, but with his uncanny knowledge of the tunnels, they made good time, soon nearing the Shrine.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They knew they had reached their destination when they entered a passageway whose walls were lined with carved skulls and bones from ceiling to the floor. It led to a gate that opened into a round antechamber dominated by a statue of Anu-Akma, the god of death. It was smaller than the ones in the temple, but with its golden scythe, the statue of the hooded god was still quite impressive. Most darakhul worshipped him above all others and statues such as this could be found in every corner of the Empire, so it was not surprising to find him represented here as well.</p><p>There were two smaller chambers adjacent to the main area, each holding an overflowing (but artfully arranged) bone pit. It was likely that these held the remains of sacrifices made during the naming ritual.</p><p>Varvara did not think too much of this, having grown accustomed to the sheer amount of ritualistic death and murder in the Empire. Had sleep been a part of her unlife, these things would likely have kept her awake at night, but her strict daily routines did not leave her much time to ponder such minor details as <em>ethics</em> or <em>morality</em>.</p><p>Behind the statue was the main shrine, lined with more statues of the ghouls’ most venerated gods. Another archway built from hundreds of bones led off to another passageway, but one of the Shrine attendants (another darakhul) stopped them before the Shrine. She had no trace of features left that could denote her as any living race. From height alone, she most likely had a human or elven background.</p><p>She did not bother asking why they had come.</p><p>“Two lords ready to receive a new name, huh? You’re in luck, the ritual is held today. Wait in the antechamber – you’ll be called when it begins. Don’t run off, we’re starting at the next bell.”</p><p>She made a shooing gesture, then turned to leave through the archway in a hurry.</p><p> </p><p>The pair went back to the antechamber and had a look around. There was not too much to see as this was not a Shrine people visited to worship at, and most darakhul preferred to receive their names when entering the service of a higher ranking noble.</p><p>In one of the chambers, they met a tiny derro darakhul who was engrossed in rearranging a stack of… Shoulder blades. Important work, no doubt. Varvara had no idea what he was doing, so she whispered to Chra’fre whether he had any idea.</p><p>“No. I know who he is – Yigosain, tender of the bone pits, but who knows what he is doing with the bones…”</p><p>“How do you-“</p><p>He put a finger to his lips to silence her, then motioned for her to get out.</p><p>Out of earshot, she tried again to find out more about her new companion.</p><p>“Alright, Chra’fre, I understand that you don’t want to tell me how you know things. You have every right not to trust me, but can I ask you some questions anyway? I mean, we do have to pass some time until the bell rings.”</p><p>“I would rather you do not.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>He looked at her, incredulous.</p><p>“You are a <em>stranger</em>, and one who I may never see again – why would I tell you anything?”</p><p>
  <em>Fair point.</em>
</p><p>After this, the two waited in silence.</p><p> </p><p>When the bell rang, four darakhul including the woman who had ‘greeted’ them appeared and asked the pair to follow. They got a good second look at the main Shrine, which was a large ornate altar hewn from a massive slab of rock. Its surface was stained black, no doubt from blood, and it featured shackles just like the smaller altar in the Fane’s mess hall, making it fairly obvious what was coming.</p><p>For now, the altar was empty and the two were motioned to kneel and wait once again. Two of the attendants left through the arch of bones, while the others kept watch over the pair. Varvara looked at the drow as if hoping for reassurance, but he was staring at the floor, with a grim, determined expression on his face. He almost seemed… furious. <em>Did he come here because he was rejected by someone? Was he forced, maybe?</em></p><p>With no hope for a kind look, Varvara’s gaze wandered. As she looked at the ceiling, a sudden movement in the darkness startled her. As if knowing that it was being watched, a large, winged creature descended from the shadows and landed on a statue of Vardesain behind the altar. It sported a ‘head’ made of multiple skulls and a, she supposed it was meant to be a body, that was just a mass of various limbs fused to the thing. Varvara prepared herself for a hopeless fight, but the creature seemed content just watching and waiting – it made no move to get closer.</p><p>To her surprise, it started speaking instead, words and phrases spoken seemingly at random by each of the skulls which sported different voices.</p><p>“Are you looking forward to the feast, little darakhul?” It asked with both male and female voices.</p><p>Varvara looked away and tried to ignore it as her mind struggled to find an explanation for the different voices. Were these multiple people in one sentient creature? <em>How <strong>disturbing</strong>!</em></p><p>“Oh please, don’t be rude. We are here to celebrate with you!”</p><p>“Ce-celebrate?” She replied against better judgement.</p><p>“Of course! There will be a great feast, little darakhul. You both will receive your names, and we will have the flesh and bone of the guest! Why would we not be excited? We are <em>so</em> looking forward to merging with the succulent fresh limbs!”</p><p>“Uhm. Well.” <em>What in the world am I supposed to say to </em>that<em>?</em> “Do you have… Favourite body parts?”</p><p>“Hands!” One of the skulls shouted.</p><p>“Nonono, hands are so <em>cliché.</em> We need more ears!”</p><p>“Hands!”</p><p>“You need to work on your obsession!”</p><p>“Ha-“</p><p>“Silence, the both of you!”</p><p>“Yes, be quiet, what we really need is a pair of buttocks!”</p><p>The wizard felt like she was stuck in a particularly weird nightmare as she watched the skulls argue among each other. <em>At least they stopped talking to </em>me<em>…</em></p><p>Chra’fre, in the meantime, ignored the creature completely. She had no idea what went on inside his head that let him ignore <em>this</em>. Maybe his home was full of such insane horrors?</p><p> </p><p>In this moment, the wait ended and the two attendants who had left previously returned in the company of a high priest. He looked ancient and Varvara had no doubt that he was as powerful as he was old. The strange amalgam of skulls and flesh fell silent immediately when he entered, whether out of fear or respect Varvara could not say.</p><p>All four attendants left the chamber while the high priest addressed the pair.</p><p>“I am Coltus Witchpock, high priest of Vardesain and master of the Naming Shrine. I will guide you through the Naming Ritual. In prayer, we will honour the four gods – in feasting, we will celebrate the power of the Lord of Hunger.</p><p>Today, as your names are granted, you will leave worthy of your station as a darakhul – with the strength to rule all lesser creatures. Your old lives will be left behind, and it is up to you to ascend in the Empire.”</p><p>The attendants returned, and, unsurprisingly, brought the sacrifice with them. A thin human woman, dark haired and hollow-faced. Her emaciated face showed little signs of aging, and with unease, Varvara realized that they must have been around the same age. She was gagged so her terrified screams would not disrupt the ritual. The attendants chained her to the altar.  Chra’fre and Varvara each reacted quite differently – the former drow looked like he was ready to free her, while Varvara did her best to remain indifferent.</p><p>Next followed a long string of heinous prayers, blasphemous and twisted, that the two newcomers repeated obediently. Once this was done, each was asked what their new name would be. Varvara announced that she would be known as ‘Valentina Flameweaver’, while Chra’fre assumed the new surname ‘Al-Sar’ a name denoting a priest, though not one of the main gods.</p><p>Once finished, the priest ordered the pair to stand before the altar, with two attendants at the head and feet of the sacrifice. The woman realized that her life was ending and struggled in a futile attempt to free herself. She was held down by the attendants.</p><p>The ‘feasting’ that followed was much worse than the regular feedings – a pack of wolves could not have torn the sacrifice’s body apart with more abandon.</p><p>Somewhere far at the back of Varvara’s, no, Valentina’s mind, a remnant of her human self watched in horror, screaming at herself to stop, but going unheeded.</p><p> </p><p>In this moment, the wizard truly accepted her new nature.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Intermission – ‘Drow’ning in Anger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A bit of background story on Varvara's new 'friend'.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, I decided that whenever I'm not 100% sure what to do with the main story, I'll write a short little intermission like this to distract myself from the fact that there are *already* inconsistencies between the grand total of three chapters and I kind of have to fix that.</p><p>Inb4 this thing becomes a convuluted mess of 15 different storylines.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While Chra’fre was not quite willing to tell Varvara about him, one of her suspicions was certainly true: He was a ‘fresh’ darakhul like her. However, the circumstances of his transformation were quite different.</p><p>He was not an innocent recruit in the wrong place at the wrong time like she had been. On the other hand, he was also not one of the few insane living who <em>willingly</em> joined the Imperium. Only a completely insane drow would do so, and he was in the full possession of his mental faculties, thankyouverymuch.</p><p>No, Chra’fre had taken a risk, and suffered the consequences. Not out of youthful brashness – although he was, in drow terms, quite the young adult. The risk in question? He had been part of a group of young drow out in the tunnels attempting to hunt the ghoul forces when the ghouls got him. They had named themselves the <em>Spider’s Bite</em> and for two years, they had done everything they could to take out as many ghouls as possible. Being a party of five youngsters with limited training and abilities, there was only so much they could do, however: Ambushing squads of ghouls, setting traps, stealing weapons. They even managed to assassinate a low-ranking diplomat from the Blood Kingdoms.</p><p> </p><p>Drow, in general, were not <em>quite</em> on friendly terms with the darakhul, since the latter tended to attack and destroy drow settlements, from the smallest villages to large cities. The ghouls were the first to successfully do this, not necessarily due to their superior military forces, but due to the simple fact that the drows’ defences were aimed entirely at living invaders. The traps guarding their underground realm, for example, were typically based on poison, which neatly picked off living attackers one by one but had absolutely no effect on the darakhul. Neither did their necrotic magic - and so the darakhul had marched into the cities with no real opposition.</p><p>This was enough by itself to spark resistance in any culture, but watching their people rise from the dead to fight for the Ghoul Imperium – if they were not simply devoured on the spot – drove many into utter despair. Not only that, but with the speed at which the darakhul razed their cities, the drow’s military defences could not keep up. And so many of the surviving drow simply decided to go into hiding. Others turned to new, darker gods in search of power, but not much progress was made. The godly alliance to save them had yet to materialize.</p><p>Chra’fre belonged to a group who desired nothing more than to fight. However, it was extremely difficult to find volunteers. Many of the drow refused to change – instead clinging stubbornly to old castes and structures. He was an acolyte, unknown and powerless. Few would have looked to him for leadership, let alone trust him to lead them into battle against the overwhelmingly powerful enemy.</p><p>Yet, Chra’fre did manage to find some likeminded drow. The Spider’s Bite saw themselves as defenders of their people (though few outsiders would have seen them as such).</p><p>They originated from one of the now destroyed smaller towns. The five were some of the few survivors. The rest of the remaining population had decided to flee, calling them fools for practically throwing themselves at the mercy of the ghouls. What helpful outcome did they expect?</p><p>But Chra’fre and his friends would not be deterred and so they fought on, until one day, of course, their luck ran out. They had taken on a bit more than they could handle, and the result left four dead (and eaten), and Chra’fre infected with darakhul fever. It was a simple scratch, nothing dangerous, and yet his life was over. Certainly, unlike humans, drow did survive sometimes, but only under the care of skilled healers.</p><p>At this point, knowing that he stood no chance, he fled, with the enemies too excited about their little feast to care.</p><p> </p><p>The infection had proceeded much like Varvara’s, but due to the drow’s greater resilience had taken much longer to transform him. He did have the ability to cure diseases as part of his clerical training but found himself unable to dispel this affliction. Maybe, with a few extra years of training… But the invasion had taken that time from him.</p><p>With the curtain crossed, Chra’fre was alone, hungry, and suddenly one of the enemies – with no home to return to. For a while, as he hunted rats to try and feed himself, he was on the verge of becoming just another feral ghoul. Drowning in hopelessness and horror at his new existence, he found it difficult to return to his former optimism. Eventually however, the initial shock faded and was replaced by bitterness and fury. Disgust at what he was doing overwhelmed him. He was not dead – he could not throw away this second chance to fight. Grim determination brought him back from the brink of madness. The will to fight on strengthened him, renewed his resolve.</p><p>With it came the question: How? He had no allies. No friends. Just a body that threatened to overwhelm him with unsated hunger. There was no way he could take down an Imperium like this.</p><p>Chra’fre spent days thinking, weighing what little options he had. Continue hunting rats like this? No, it would not do. He had decades, if not centuries ahead of him. Time he did not want to waste. And so, it was clear to him that the only way to destroy the Imperium was from within, by gathering other ghouls who still had some level of conscience left, or who were displeased with their society. He knew there were thousands of darakhul, no doubt there were some who did not blindly follow their leader. How he would do it, he did not know; but the first step was to find his way into this society, to join and make himself ‘fit in’ and create a believable identity. Ideas would surely come, opportunities reveal themselves as he would learn more about the darakhul.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, he knew his way around the Imperium’s outer regions. The Spider’s Bite had scouted and mapped out the tunnels between skirmishes. Older maps had certainly existed, but the darakhul dug out new tunnels, blocked others to ensure the drow could surprise them, and built bases in any strategically relevant location.</p><p>Armed with this knowledge, all he had to do was find the next familiar landmark and orientate himself from there.</p><p> </p><p>It did not take long for him to find his way since his people possessed excellent abilities to navigate the underworld. Drow were equipped with especially fine hearing, so he simply followed the distant sounds of water until he eventually reached the Blackjet River, which would lead him to the Sunless Sea. He would be able to sneak through various tunnels around it. The darakhul were unlikely to attack him now, though this far on the outskirts of the Imperium, many other dangerous creatures lurked.</p><p>While he knew where he was going, it was a <em>long</em> journey to any place that was remotely close to the heart of the Imperium – so he set his sights on Gnawbone, where he would no doubt be able to find his place among the priests, and marched on.</p>
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